Up in Arms
by deadliving
Summary: *Accepting OCs, for Cannonfodder* During a time when OCs are oppressed and abused, one decides to rise up against oppression, and fight for the right to be free.
1. Abuse

**This is my second accepting OC story, **

**Inspired by something PhoenixReece said, so thank you PhoenixReece.**

**The premise: OCs are a downtrodden breed, and they finally rise up against the canon characters.**

**On with the prologue!**

OCs. Ask a tree friend on the street, and they will likely say, 'Oh, them, they're vermin.' or 'OCs aren't something you should fret about. You don't fret about wild dogs or pigs do you?".

OC by definition is an outsider. 'An original character, created by a fan, often used in fanfiction.' The truth: OCs aren't vermin. Infact, most are similar to canon characters. It's just how they are created.

Canon characters were made by the Creator, aka Rhode Montijo, the supposed deity that created Happy Tree Universe. OCs are created by fans or believers of Rhode, therefore held as sacreligious souls. They were all the same inside, but apparently, where you came from determined how you were treated

* * *

Lumpy was watching over his fruitstand, watching for theives. Shifty and Lifty came by, and grabbed a pound or two of apples, and ran off. Lumpy shook his fist and swore at them, but did little to stop them. Skippy crawls out of the alley, bones exposed from hunger. He pants with exhaustion, and pilfers a single apple. Lumpy grabs him by the wrist, and whistles for a police officer to arrest Skippy. Toothy comes from nowhere and begins to beat the dangling OC. They drop him and Toothy barks at the fleeing OC. "And you better not return and steal these apples ever again!"

Fritz and Spanky present the weapons to Cuddles. "So, what do you want? We got Civil War era pistols, a sub-machine gun, and this-" Spanky picks it up and shows it to the rabbit. "This baby was banned by The Council in Hague after the Bosnian genocide."

"So does it work?" the rabbit asks, suspecting something amiss.

"Sure it does!" Fritz unloads a clip into a generic tree friend near the entrance of the alley way. "And, it is probably the safest gun to use on Earth."

"Nah, I'm gonna see what Shifty and Lifty are selling." he pouts, walking to Shifty and Lifty's apartment. Spanky and Fritz sigh. "Gott haßt mich."

Spanky punches Fritz. "I hate you too, Fritz."

Katz places the filled-out slip on the desk. Giggles browses the page. "So you are enrolling to be a police officer, Ms. Katz?" Giggles asks, warm and invitingly.

"Yes, I am a wonderful fighter and know how to defend civilians." she says eagerly. Giggles notices that she is not listed as a canon character, and marks a big red X on her paper.

"Denied. Go back to your hole, OC." She grunts, tossing the papers in Katz's face. Katz storms out, enraged.

Around dusk, Katz enters her little apartment, where Fritz, Spanky, Spazz, and Skippy lounge. Fritz was under the bed, hitting the ground with a spoon, Spanky was glaring at the last of the money they had. Spazz sat glaring at a non-existant television. Skippy was reading _Lord of the Flies_

"Well, My job search is over. Fritz, Spanky, you two are going to need to get off your lazy asses and find some work." She sighs.

"Yo, I ain't got no qualifying skills, and Lumpy has all the manual labor in this town covered." Spanky complains.

"And no one wants some bi that smells like scheiß working in a store." Fritz adds.

"Well, then get off your ass and look for someone that does!" Katz demands. "Deadliving ain't gonna help us! Nobody's gonna help us if we don't help ourselves! Skippy is too young to work, Spazz doesn't seem to accept reality, and I'm succumbing to illness! We are going to suffer without money."

"Katz, what are we going to do now?" Skippy asks.

"Well, we'll pray. For ourselves, for all the other OCs out there. Maybe someday, one will rise against this oppression. Someday, maybe..."

**That is your cue to start submiting OCs.**

**None will die except my own so don't worry (unless you do want them to die), although there will be oppresive actions against the OC.**

**Submit as many as you want. I also need a leader figure, active, brave, and anxious to be free.**

**Review!**


	2. A Revelation

**A New Chapter of Up in Arms.**

**The next two chapters will introduce the OCs.**

**If I hadn't already said it somewhere, I'll be focusing on 'Ugly Americans' and 'Expidition', and things on Fictionpress more now, but I'll still get in some HTF things.**

**The Following Chapter is based partly on Bully-aggravated suicide/assault w/ deadly weapons. :P**

**I Must warn you, although there is no character death yet, there are suicide attemptsand aggravated assaults in this chapter.**

Fritz was sitting on a stool, listening to Homeotic Fry's "True Savior", examining a hackeysack. He tossed a hackeysack in the air. Kicking it up repeatedly to the sound of the lyrics.

_Tanz, Tanz, Tanz mit mir  
Folge mir ins Licht  
Ich kenne den Weg  
Ich bin der wahre Erlöser  
Führende ins Nichts_

He was having a good time, until it flew into the blades of the ceiling fan, which immediately fell to the ground. a substantial amount of gravel landed on Spazz, who remained aloof. Fritz looked over his shoulder, at the flickering television. Their television, like the others in this apartment, had been rendered obsolete by the racist cable company that felt OCs didn't deserve a luxury like television. Skippy had long since gone to play in the hallway. Fritz kicks the television screen, which shatters. As said before, it was obsolete.

He notice a noise that wasn't static, or traffic outside. It was piano music, coming from the apartment above. The Phoenix Reece apartment. He never thought of any of the three living up there played piano, although they were probably renting it out to another OC in need. It was out of tune either way, and a truly annoying one as well. He glared at Spazz, then at the vacant room around him. _A stroll through the building couldn't hurt, could it?,_ he thought to himself, walking out the door.

Skippy was playing with an enormous ball of lint, narrating his every action. Fritz walks past the little child into the hallway, and enters the stairway. Back when authors regulated the universe, the windows would display the beauty of this neighborhood, flowers, cars, joyful children. They left awhile ago, and the original creator had yet to make his second coming, leaving much of the world in ruin.

The average drug addict would usually flee from a place like this, but there, resting in a doorway, was Ralphe. His creator, left him on his own from day one. He was always a bum. But he was a bum with a plan. He always knew what to do. He was probably the first person Fritz met in Happy Tree Country.

He smiles and waves at the beaver. "Hey, Fritz!"

Fritz smiles and waves back. Warm faces seemed to be a rarity in these times. "Good morning, Ralphe. How's the work coming?"

Ralphe shrugs. "Eh, I'm getting appointed to head of a Coccaine Submarine in Mexico some time soon."

"Cocaine Sub!?" Fritz shouts. Ralphe cups his hand over Fritz's mouth.

"Keep quiet!" Ralphe barks. "An OC needs work somewhere. Remember the Koala from New York City?" Fritz nods. "He got recruited to head of the HTC Al Qaeda sect." Fritz's eyes shoot open wide. "And I heard Spanky is ready to begin a new religion that lifts prostitution, rape, and child abuse to a new level of holiness." Ralphe explains, pulling his hand away from Fritz's mouth.

"When did people go insane?" Fritz asks himself.

Ralphe shrugs again. "I guess when authors left. But I have a plan to even the playing field between us and Canons. I will assassinate President Lumpy, and leave the Al qaeda cell to finish off the rest of government. Then we'll escape in a cocaine submarine. You want to join in?"

Fritz glances around. "Not really. I want the government to change, but using acts of terror is a bit drastic."

Ralphe grins. "Drastic? Forcing OCs into Ghettoes is drastic. As far as this scale says, a political overthrow isn't drastic."

"On a historical scale, genocide isn't drastic either. Are you saying Genocide is alright?"

"No, I'm preventing genocide is what I aim to do." Ralphe says, wagging a finger. Fritz raises an eyebrow, rubbing his temples. He closes his eyes and shakes his head.

"What!?" he shouts. But, when he opened his eyes once again, Ralphe was gone. _One would say these are strange times and they would be right indeed, _Fritz thought to himself.

..t..

Fritz was on the floor above his, where the horrible music was. It sounded like the North Hollywood Gunmen were writing a song about how they killed everybody. As much as he would like to ignore it, it was pounding in his ears. He burst through the door, where a grey cat sat at the piano. He had dark blue jean shorts, purple & black sneakers, black elbow & knee pads, black fingerless gloves, the fur on the top of his head gelled up into a small mohawk, with streaks of purple in it, purple & black goggles perched above his eyes. He turns to face Fritz, still playing piano.

"Yes?" he asks with a cheeky grin on his face.

"What are you playing!?" Fritz angrily grunts at the cat.

"The polite thing to say would be 'Hello, what is your name?' and I'd say 'My name is DJ, I'm alright today, how are you?', sir." DJ snarks at Fritz, who sighs and rolls his eyes.

"My name is Fritz, and why the hell are you playing that horrible tune?" Fritz pouts, crossing his arms.

"Well, the German fox next door told me to play this and he'd leave some money on my doorstep." he explained. Fritz had a scowl on his face, when he left the room, and knocked on the door adjacent to DJ's. He peeked in on a fox in a Holocaust era German military uniform, with a gun to his temple. He was mumbling to himself, "Da ist zuviel OCs, Niemand quält mich so zum Scherz, Ein totes Herz ist kein Verlust," Fritz pushed the door open, and the gun spun on the Fox's finger, until it was pointed towards Fritz "Rührt dich nicht, Fritz.".

Fritz froze. Drool dripped from his mouth, and his heart started racing. "Tu das nicht. Deinem Leben ist Wichtig." Fritz cautions the Fox.

The Fox looks over at Fritz. "I do speak a bit of Englische, Fritz. My name is Hanz."

Fritz begins calming down, although he is still tensed up, drooling. "How do you know my name, Hanz?" Fritz stutters.

"My roommate, Hallow told me about you. If what she said is true, I have good reason to shoot you." Hanz mutters.

"Well, I don't know about you, but If I were living on this level, I'd hate knowing someone's brains were blown out near my home." Fritz tries to reason. Pippy, who had been asleep when Fritz came to the level, butted in moments later.

"I wouldn't mind." she smirks.

"Pippy, you are no help." Fritz squeaks at her.

"Well." Hanz moans in defeat. "I guess if fellow OCs prefer it I live, Gott, lass das sein." He tosses the gun aside. Fritz walks over, and snatches the gun.

"I don't think you should keep this." Fritz said.

"Now, go away, Fritz. Your disturbed presence is not needed." Hanz commands.

Fritz walks out the door into the hallway. Today he had a revelation; _People were so downtrodden they were willing to commit suicide, and team up with deadly enemies to escape their fate._

_Maybe what they really need is a wake up call delivered by a savior._

_A True Savior._

**I trust that you have Google Translate to translate anything you don't understand.**

**Please alert me if you have a problem with how I portrayed your OC.**

**Don't Flame,**

**I have a dog who killed deer, snakes, and racoons. I'm pretty sure she can eat a flamer.**

**Review, even if you hate it.**

**~ Spawn**


	3. The Decay and Border Patrol

**HEY LOOK! A NEW CHAPTER!**

**HOLYOMFGWTF!**

**Guess what? It's still a far way from the real violent action. **

**Enjoy!**

Spanky sits down on the bench in the park. Years ago, the park was vivid and alive with color. Decay has left only dull sepia. He turns over his shoulder to see a man reading a newspaper. Although Canon characters and OCs are hard to tell apart, the 7 in 10 people are OCs, and it was very likely in this part of the city, he was an OC.

"So, nice day, huh?" Spanky begins. Small talk made him quiver, as his social skills left much to be desired.

The Newspaper folded down, and revealed a blue squirrel. Squirrels, in those stereotypical jokes, always have a smile on thir face. this one had a heartbroken, grim frown. "The weather's nice, true. Obviously, you are not a Canon, or I'd be kicked off the bench."

"And obviously, you are..." Spanky thought for a moment, for a word a bit more appropriate than 'sad to everyone who sees you'. "...down."

The Squirrel smiles. "Oh, heavens to Murgatroid! You look a bit backwards, queero even!" He mocks in a Cowardly lion voice.

"Hey! You're a Fan of Snagglepuss!" Spanky exclaims, resisting the urge to jab his pocket knife into the squirrel's side.

"Oh yeah, he was definately the best '50s Hollywood star." The Squirrel smirks, as if it was a shock to Spanky. "You do you think is the Best Movie Star is now?" He asks, looking into Spanky's eyes.

Spanky puts a hand on his chin, mocking an intellectual pose. "Either Samiri the Cow, or Petunia. Samiri made some good horror films, I mean who can forget _The Regulars_ or _Miracle Worker_, but Petunia's hot!"

"Yeah, Marilyn Monroe of her day, even though movies these days usually suck." the Squirrel trails of into deep thought with an satisfied grin. He reaches out a hand. "My Name's Clumy, DDD09."

Spanky meets his hand halfway. "Mine's Spanky, DL."

Clumy points to a comic Strip in the Newspaper. "Atleast the comics are alright. Like Swine before Pearls and the Bluenuts."

Spanky sees a headline with a disturbing ring. **The Decay swallows Tilder Springs and Opiate. Refugees bring drugs and violence.**

"Oh dear God. Tilder Springs!" Spanky shouts. Clumy looks at the bewildered squirrel, then at the newspaper.

"What about Tilder Springs?" Clumy asks.

"Tilder Springs is the Drug capital of the world. Corn, Poppies, and Coca grow like weeds. Imagine the thousands of drug dealers, junkies, and Alcoholics in the city without drugs to sell or abuse. Now, I'm out of a job! And then, there was a cult called The Dims, who worshipped a demon in the corn and poppy fields. There's going to be 20,000 people dead of suicide, if they didn't disappear with the land." Spanky explodes.

Clumy had no idea what he was talking about. Not to say he was stupid, rather ignorant. Ignorance was a disease most common these days amongst the poor (OCs, mostly).The Decay didn't just drain life from the park. It was a Langolier, tearing little holes in existence. But as with the great loneliness of death, The Decay was a fact of life, nowadays.

Spanky just shook his head at the ignorance of Clumy.

* * *

Spades glare out into the Horizon ahead. The sliver of twilight was being immersed in a dark midnight sky. In the midway, the two were swapping fluids, in a mix of the two. Below the twilight's pink foot, was the light tawny sand of the desert. The infamous Winter's West was in that direction, across the desert. It was a small town, but was often the port of illegal immigration into Happy Tree Land.

Immigrants were often OCs looking for work in Happy Tree Land. Spades and his sister Laces had been on of those OCs. They left their 'blood' family, Iris and Oink back in Zweistadt. He had no idea of what happened to them. All he knew was he had a job, his sister was out of the institution, and the World was cruel.

The fox set his eyes upon the narrow roadway through the desert. It was a truck lane. What little the world had to offer to Happy Tree Land came down that narrow path. He was rarely faced with the arduous task of searching the trucks for illegal immigrants.

Thank God he didn't.

In Happy Tree Country Border Patrol, there was an adage taken from 2100's Canadians: _Shoot first, shoot later, keep shooting, just keep those damn Americans out of our country_. While they weren't keeping desperate Americans out of a globally warmed Canada, the adage wrung true. He heard less than two entry stations away, some border guards collected trophies from their freshly killed immigrant victims.

Being an immigrant, he could never bring himself to harm another immigrant. He hadn't seen a single one since he began in October. He turns his head to the left. halfway to the horizon, he could see Hanz and Aurora. Hanz was a fox who kept to himself and wore a Nazi uniform, but nothing besides that lead Spades to believe he would kill and immigrant. Aurora might, although if she did, it would be with her constant companions, her 3 foot long katanas. Then Spades turned his head to the right. Across the street was Pike, with a characteristic blue circle around his eye. He was a bit of a naieve teenager, and Spades doubts seriously the possibility of him ever even thinking of dispatching anyone.

Spades only hope he can keep avoiding migrants, keep hoping he'll get a meager paycheck enough to feed him and his sister, keep hoping there won't be an OC Genocide in the Tree Country.

* * *

Всадник, or Ryder pokes his head above a low hung dune, scanning the fence from horizon to horizon. The Grey hyena's eyes tore apart every detail in the environment, as the officers in Spetznaz trained him to. The electrified fence had no weak spots as far as he could see. The Sentries whose job it is to make sure even the suicidal never make it far enough to ride the lightning however, did seem promising.

"Cherry, come look." he said, in English choked by a Russian accent. "It's Joisey boy and Mobster italiano." His sister, Черри, or Cherry, took the binoculars from her brother's hands.

"Who's the Jersey Boy and who's the Mobster?" she asked.

"The fox with the Fedora is mobster. Odd little dog is Jersey Boy." He clarifies. A fox pops up next to Ryder.

"There are two guards I haven't seen before." He whispers. The Fox used to be a coyote, leading migrants down safe paths to a better land. There were always tales of coyotes ending up leaving you worse than you started off. Scott was one coyote that was loyal to his customers. Or rather, was. Tilder Springs has disappeared from the map, and all kinds of drug addicts, oversexed young women and men, and druglords began demanding more coyotes to lead them to the promising lands South.

Ryder crouches down behind the sand dune, glaring eye to eye with Scott. "Why? I thought you've made many a trip down this road." The Hyena inquires with a large finger poking into Scott's face. The fox slaps it away.

"I never go this early, but the ZPD was on to me, and I had to disappear with you two." he exclaims in a hushed and restrained voice. "You two are lucky I even thought of taking you across the border, what with the new heightened security, and all."

"Заткнись, маленькая лиса!" Cherry barked.

She ducks down behind the dune, with a bead of sweat running down her forehead and her eyes shot through the dune. "Mobster's coming!" she says in a really hushed tone.

**Sorry it's short. It's something at the least!**

**You on the other side of the screen wonders where I am when I'm supposed to be updating the stories,**

**I'm at Alternate , my account being WienerBlut (John Strauss' orchestra music)**

**But otherwise, go check out some other awesome stories by the wonderful writers I know you all are, and have a happy GLBT month.**


	4. Shot from the Hip

**Well, here comes a new chapter for all of you!**

**Mu-Mu-Mu-Mu-Moscow!**

**We welcome you to Moscow!**

**This city is so nice.**

**But watch out for the rabid dogs, **

**and don't slip on the ice!**

***Sid from TToG facepalms himself* Sid: BOZHEMOI!**

Pike scanned the horizon, his gun following the trajectory of his eyes. He always envisioned himself in his old video games, blasting the shit out of Terrorists and Commies. He had kept it up until Klutz decided to hide the X-Box from authorities.

He was supporting a Drifty, a drunkard, and Klutz, whose name says it all. After Drifty's drinking, paying for damages caused by Klutz sucked funds from his accounts like a sponge. But in the end, he had money to pay rent, get food, and play some old arcade games in the end.

He spotted the slightest glimpse of a black hat rising over a nearby dune. He turns to the nervous brown fox across the path. "Eh, Shifty."

The Fedora wearer turns to Pike. "My Name is Spades, not Shifty." he corrects.

"Yeah, Spades," he repeats, "I'm going to check out something suspicious upon the dune over there." Spade's eyes grow, almost bulging from their sockets.

"I don't see anything." he observed.

"Nah, I saw something. And we don't have any fun on this job." Pike smiles.

"What kind of fun are you seeking?" Spades spits in disbelief. Pikes shakes his head, laughing.

"You've never shot a civilian have you?" he utters under his breath.

"I've never shot anybody!" Spades shouts, this time completely disgusted. Pike simply ignores the fox, proceeding forward, gun raised. Hanz and Aurora watched the scene from afar, waiting for the time to strike whatever gopher pops out from behind the dune. Sweat began to roll down Spade's face, which was odd because canids rarely perspirated.

Ryder, Scott, and Cherry waited just below the crest of the sandhill, waiting for the Joisy boy to come over and shoot them up. Ryder unsheathed a bowie knife, and he whispers to Scott.

"I will go kamikaze upon the Boy. They will shoot at me, and you will take Cherry and take her through the fence hole you know. Take care of her." He then looks into his little sister's eyes. "Be good, for everybody's sake, Cherry." She gives him a warm smile.

Pike edged nearer until he could spit upon the immigrants. "Come out with your hands u-" Ryder leaps up, wielding his bowie knife. Hanz and Aurora come running towards the inevitable battle, wielding their respective Weapon. Ryder swings his arm down upon Pike, and Pike was about to pull the trigger, when the two had been knocked off their feet. Hanz and Aurora glance over at Spades, holding a smoking barrel. Scott and Cherry stood behind another sand dune not fifty paces away, in shock.

Everybody stood motionless. "Oh shit!" Spades mutters, blood drained from his face. All five come running towards the bloody mess. They see upon closer inspection that the fox had only got their feet. But blood was spurting everywhere. Hanz feels both of their pulses, as both had fallen unconscious through unseen means. "We have to get them to a Hospital, quickly. You struck their femoral arteries."

Scott whips out a cellphone and calls associates upon the other side of the border, for help and security. "If you three get us across, We will save your friend too." Scott bargains.

Aurora and Hanz silently agree, nodding in agreement with Scott aswell. With a few twitches of the thumb, the number is dialed, and Help is ordered.

* * *

Katz coughs up blood into her blanket. Fritz knew the end for her was near. Authors no longer regulated the Universe, and the Decay took over, which helped lead to such a rift between the OCs and Canons.

Katz was always a meanhearted bitch, but DJ (who turned out to have medical training when so many OCs couldn't count past 20) diagnosed her illness as a literal blackhole in her heart. It was the Decay. She lay in bed, eyes barely propped open. Blood dripping from her nose left a beeline from the nostril to the chin. But, with the fur being red in color, it was barely noticed. What one would probably notice is the depression in the body where her left breast should be. Her lower lip trembled, as if to utter a final reconciliation of her regret-filled life. Instead, another malignant red jet of blood shot from the back of her mouth.

"Fritz," she was able to moan weakly. The Beaver leaned forward. "Make sure wherever in hell Deadliving and the others are, kill them." she wheezed, a final jet of blood hitting Fritz in the face. Her eyes slid shut, Her cheek twitched, and her lips trembled once more. "Fuck You, Love God..."

DJ dropped her wrist, shaking his head. "She's gone." he whispered softly. Spanky and Skippy stood in the corner of the room. Spank took out his cigarette, and let the ember die. Skippy began to whimper quietly. A deathly silence filled the apartment. Even the shots and car alarms ceased. The stacatto noise of the flourescent lights slowed to silence. It was absolutely silent. Preciously silent.

Skippy finally began to sob.

DJ gets to his feet, dusts of his legs, and shoots a look over at Spanky. "Now we need to get the body a proper resting place. Do you perhaps have anywhere I can dump her with little attention attracted?" Even in a calm soft voice, the words bit Fritz like a rabid dog.

"I have friends at a construction site, We could probably shove her in the walls." Spanky suggests, shrugging.

"Then We ought to mummify her, or gases from decomposition will weaken the wall." DJ retorts.

"Back in the good ole' days my crew would first feed some of it to a Tiger, just carve it up a bit. Then we salted what was left and jammed it in the walls."

"Nice. I prefer Siafu ants, as they consume everything soft on the corpse, and may get rid of teeth as well."

Fritz gawks at the two men talking about how to dispose a corpse. Although a drug dealer and a 'alternative' scientist would be the ones you'd expect to know these things, you'd never think of them talking about a friend. Blood relatives, even.

It reminded him of his old friend, Gilbert. He was a silver weasel, drank alot, was in the Waffen SS at one point. He often had a yellow canary perched on his head. He was very cynical and almost strict you might say, often relying on him or his brother Ludwig to support him. He never had any friends, aside from Fritz and his brother. Gilbert was always beating the crap out of people who he regarded as friends.

One day, Gilbert began to wither away. Probably TB. He tried to repent all his former ways. You never saw him in a bar after that, he went to Church everyday. He even tried to make amends with his Brother. He married his childhood sweetheart, only to die after the wedding.

His funeral was the only time Fritz went to a Church. The only time he wept for a friend, aswell. The Funeral, even for a guy that loathed was relatively magnificent. Of course, Ludwig paid for most of it, though, Fritz contributing a sizable portion.

They could afford something like that back then. Nowadays Funerals involved which building to dump the body into. Fritz shook his head.

Spanky and DJ smiled when the cat unsheathed a bone saw. Skippy was covering his eyes, sobbing. Fritz shook his head as the cat and the kinkajou merrily disembodied the corpse.

**Many of you OCs will be introduced in the next few chapters, at the Institute. **

**I have a new Crossover fic, entitled 'In High Places'. Check it out if you want.**

**I have a new poll up,**

**and I can't contain my excitement anymore:**

**I'M GOING TO THE RAMMSTEIN CONCERT IN MADISON SQUARE GARDEN! EEEH!**

**Ok, that has been pushed out of the way, **

**Review. Please. **


	5. The Relevation of Deadliving

**Ok, although this contains a sliver of a chapter and primarily an Author's Note,**

**I MUST inform you of the status of this Story.**

**I have a Shitload of OCs, so be patient, and review, as it makes Me update faster.**

**As of now, Any OC submitted will be cannon Fodder. **

**And PesciVespucci, I must inform you, your OC will certainly become one of the primary antagonists, but remember, The End is such a random thing.**

**You could end with a conquered Happy Treeland and romance, You could see all the people dying, You could even see the Authors returning to save the day.**

**Pesci, just wait and see. deadliving's mind is as cruel as a bad Naziwank Story. You never know how it will end up.**

**I'm just a Seaplane. :P**

The Man stood proud and tall in Philadelphia's rainy streets. Under an umbrella, he handed out the very bane of his existence: Comics about a Hellish World and characters living in it. Most refused the wet paper, but some gave him a measly $2 for the comics. He smiled, thanked them, and went on peddling his wears.

He shivered in the frigid breeze sweeping rain across the city.

The only things he knew were The Comic, His Artwork, and Music. He rarely strayed from those things, being the only things whimsical enough to fulfill his disturbed mind. Romance turned up only failure for the man of Mixed race, and had fallen by the wayside.

Fanfiction was that way as well. His FF personna was deadliving, as he shall be called from now on.

His worlds never had the intelligence, wit, or originality of other fanfics, he wove together a myriad of mnemes, and produced part of the Superorganism we knew as 'HTF Fanfiction'. It lost many a parts, but like a good toy, it kept on working hard for it's survival. But like the slowly eroding tape of Biological History, The Collaboration of ideas working together became a mismash of stories, having only a few precious moments in the sun before dying. The stories were also quite terrible, I mean look at what you're reading.

The Supperorganism finally fell, leaving a disarray of an HTF Fanfic. OCs became trapped in the world, unable to return to their authors for help or guidance. When the Tiger General's son lead a Coup overthrowing the minimal government, he set up a segregation of the races. OCs became downtrodden, as industry was built upon their backs.

Deadliving knew well he had abandoned the Superorganism when it needed his support most. He was nursing a personal life at the time. He failed to update, and many took advantage to be reviewed. He never returned.

His cellphone vibrates. He picks it up and answers.

A Flashing light sends William realling, he opens his eyes to see Matthew L Saunders descending from on high.

William was shocked, as Matt Saunders was believed to be dead by all FF writers.

"We need you to return, gather the Authors and return." He says. Matthew Cradled the HTF Fanfics since it's infancy, and watched the destruction in horror. He ascended to the ranks of professional cartoonist soon after. Matt stares at the man's inability to look up at him.

Oh, God 'You are not Worthy' and all that bullshit. Just look at me."

"All right, sir." the Mixed utters.

"Go forth and revive my son."

"PigeonJesus?"

"HTF FANFICTION!"

deadliving falls to the ground again, awakening in Philadelphia. He drops the Comics, and runs to his house. He must get the Authors back together.

**What do you think of an Author's conference in a later chapter?**

**Just review.**

**deadliving will return.**

**We leave you to your loneliness, little spawnfish.**


End file.
